


Two Days

by Su_Whisterfield



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Dawn of X, M/M, Profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield
Summary: Follow on to Wolverine Issue Two, February 2020. Written by Ben Percy.Logan took out his team. Not for the first time.He’s a killing machine, friend or foe, using him has a cost, to him and to those around him.
Relationships: Logan/Kurt Wagner
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Two Days

Day One

I know I’m just shadow amongst the shadows.  
“Can I do anything?” I’ve got more sense than to ask if he’s okay.  
He looks like he wants to yell and beat the crap out of something. Someone. Anyone.  
“No. No, it’s fine. Thank you.”  
He’s quiet for a minute.  
Time to ‘fess up. “He’s in my habitat.”  
“Okay.” He says, through clenched teeth.  
“Scott, I know...”  
I don’t. But I can guess.  
He slaughtered them. His team. Jean.  
I can see the muscles in his jaw. He wants to hit me. It’s too soon, too raw.  
“I’m sorry.” I head for the door.  
“Thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”  
I want to say - ’You did know, Scott, you knew that he’s dangerous. Jean knew. You’ve known for years. You knew what he’s capable of. You knew when you invited the tiger into your life, your home. Into your bed.’ But I don’t, it wouldn’t be fair, to make his pain worse. He knew.  
Wolverine is a tool, a dreadful weapon, we use him at our own risk.

I get to the door.  
“Kurt? Are you okay? With him?”  
Probably. I don’t know. He has enough to worry about. I give him a smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”  
I leave him, staring out at the Earth below.

****

Killed her. Gutted her, like a rabbit.  
She should’a taken me down, when she saw me go for Nina an’ Quire.  
They always think they’re special, I fuck ‘em so they think they know me, they’re safe from me.  
Wrong. Always wrong.

An’ Slim too, he knows that. Knows what a fuckin’ animal I am. What did he expect?  
Chuck’ll bring ‘em back. It’ll all be fine, in a couple of days.  
We’ll just carry on as normal.

Images run round my head, every time I close my eyes. Blood on the snow.  
Gut ‘em. Kill ‘em all.  
Kill ‘em until there’s no one left to care if you live or die.

****

I speak to Emma, she’s in London, the Luna habitat is too far for her to pick up Scott’s distress, but I don’t think he should be alone right now.

Of course Logan’s dangerous. We all know that. It’s the price we pay for having him fighting at our side. But he’s also a man, with his own feelings, he’s not an animal, not a machine, he knows what he is, what he’s done.

He’s unresponsive.  
I’m not touching him, not going near him, not putting any pressure on him. No pressure, no aggression, none at all.

I’m so relieved that he came to me. That I know where he is.  
He’s safe here. So is everyone else.

He’s staring out the window, the moon is rising.  
That’s where he belongs now.  
With Jean. And Scott.  
Not with me.  
And yes, I do miss him. 

We’ve been apart so long. 

One or the other of us has been dead (only in my occupation do you get to say that...) for too long and I was hoping that our new status quo would mean that we could at least get back to being friends.  
But, well, no.  
I’ve barely seen him, since we died on the Forge mission. 

It’s fine. I’m fine.  
My happiness isn't dependent on him.  
But I do miss him.

Even if just as a friend.

Okay. Yes, I’m jealous. 

I’m jealous that he has a family, people to come home to.  
I come back to an empty habitat.

It’s a beautiful place, the views are stunning.  
I love being on Krakoa, I can walk out where I want without fear, it’s safe here, for me, for all of us.  
I like working on The Quiet Council.  
We are building our new home.

But. I’m still getting used to coming back to an empty apartment, cooking dinner, alone, spending my evening, my night, alone.  
I’ve never lived alone, I grew up in a tiny caravan, sharing it with my mother and siblings, sharing my life with the circus too. I then moved to the Westchester mansion when Charles recruited me and lived communally with the X-Men.  
Living alone is very strange to me.  
I’m not sure I like it.

This isn’t about me.

I make tea and sit on the chair opposite him.

“Why the fuck are you here?” His voice is a growl of gravel and anger.  
It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a quip about this being my living room but I’m not stupid. He’s dangerous. To me, as much as to anyone.  
“Why? Ya think yer special? Ya think I wouldn’t?”  
Oh. Oh boy.  
He stands up. Raw power. He’s a killing machine. He moves towards me. I put the cup down on the saucer with a slightly nervous rattle.  
“Logan...” I keep my voice low, calm.  
“Yer nothing.” He moves closer. “Yer not special, ya hear me?”  
He looms over me, I don’t make eye contact, I was braced for a physical assault, ready to ‘port away if I had to, but the verbal attack is unexpected.  
“I put them right through her.” He unsheathes those razor sharp claws. Looks at them. “If I can gut her, I can kill anyone. You. Any of you. You are nothin’, nothin’ to me.”  
He leans over me. I’m still not looking at him, so he gets into my face. Sniffs. “I can smell it, smell yer fear.” He puts his hand under my chin, the claws are millimetres from my throat. “Ya should be scared.”  
I swallow. You bet I’m scared. His fingers tighten under my chin, ow, ow, ow.  
I meet his eyes, this powerful, terrifying man.

He’s right, I have no hold over him.  
I could ‘port away.  
But I want him here.  
He’s safe here. Everyone else is safe if he’s here.

He’s my friend.  
He’s hurting.  
He killed the woman he loves.  
He wasn’t in his right mind. 

I know what he is.  
He is death.

But he is my friend.  
I am his friend.

“You’re hurting me.” I sound weak, even to my own ears.  
He snarls, curls his lip but lets go of me. Ow.  
I keep eye contact.  
If he leaves here, where will he go? What will he do?  
I need him to stay here. He’s safe here.  
Until he gets his centre back.

“Fuck the hell off.”  
“No.”  
“Get the fuck out of here.”  
“No. Logan.”  
“Get. Out.” He clenches a fist, raises it, those metal bones hurt, he’s hit me before.  
“No.”  
He snarls and the claws lash out. They carve the chair behind me, around me, the teacup and saucer go flying, shatter across the room. It’s a Krakoan grown chair, leaves and twining vines put up no resistance to adamandium as he shreds it around me. I’m shaking, I can feel myself shaking. Damn it, Kurt. Stay calm!  
He slashes the chair, fangs bared, blades whistle past my head, I feel the air move. I don’t dare even twitch, his spittle hits my face as he roars his fury, his frustration, his pain. Oh, Logan.  
He falls on his knees before me, sobbing.  
“Oh, Logan.” My heart aches for him.  
He puts his head in my lap. Oh. Oh, my love.  
I dare to touch him, to reach down and stroke his hair.  
“Shh, shh.” I’m still shaking, I don’t want him to know how badly he scared me.  
I don’t want to add to the emotion, he needs me calm, needs me controlled.  
“I know, I know you love her.” I swallow. “She loves you, it’ll be fine.”  
He’s sheathed the claws. His arms are around me, I’m still poised to ‘port, if I have to. I’m probably kidding myself, he’s so fast, but I have to hold on to some hope.  
His fingers on my back tighten over my ribs, oh, ow, that’s uncomfortable. He’s not meaning to hurt, he’s just so heavy, so strong. Those metal bones, that incredible strength. I bite my lip. I can’t transmit my tension to him, I need to be calm and relaxed, so he’ll calm and relax.

I’m not special, not special to him. I knew that, but I really didn’t need to hear it. Words can cut, almost as much as those killing claws.  
But he’s my friend. He needs me. Needs me to not care about his words.  
Jean will be back in two days, I need to keep him safe until then.

I stroke his hair, make soothing noises, calm, calm.  
Stay here, love, stay safe.

****

What the actual fuck?  
I ache, my muscles ache from being rigid with tension for too long.  
The bed is soft, the pillow, the bedding, the smell is familiar. Comforting.

He curled up in a chair on the other side of the room. Head on his drawn up knees. Watching me.

He put me in his own bed.  
After he took me in. Like a stray dog.  
He was scared of me. He’s still scared of me.  
But he wouldn’t turn me away.

He’s well clear of my reach. Good.  
I wasn’t safe to be around.

Memories resurface, the chair, the cup falling. The words.  
Not special.  
He’s nothing to me.

The sun is just coming up, as golden as those eyes.

He gets up, unfolds so gracefully, he’s wearing leggings and an oversized Xavier School sweatshirt. He drifts out of the room, I hear him moving around.  
I’m naked, I don’t remember. He must have undressed me, the uniform is on the dresser folded, neatly.  
There’s a yukata on the end of the bed. One of mine. How the hell did that get here?

Which kinda leads to the more important question, how the fuck did I get here? Huh, I didn’t even know where he was living. Did I? I must have done.  
Why here?  
Because he’s here, dumbass.  
Because it was the safest place your addled, fucked over, brain could think of.  
He’s the safest place. 

Crap. I did it again, took out my own team. The Pale Girl made me, but that’s not the point.  
I killed them. Me. My claws.  
I’m the killer.  
Ah, Jeannie.  
I ain’t safe to be around.  
We’re all so fucked up.

I go through into the lounge. It’s immaculate, Krakoa has regrown the chair, exactly as it was. Before I destroyed it.

He’s in the kitchen. Making coffee, ridiculously domestic. Coffee is in short supply round these parts, I guess rank hath it’s privilege. Or it’s from an admirer?  
I watch those graceful limbs move as he reaches up and across.  
Graceful.  
Beautiful.  
A beautiful man, he really is.  
One of these days, someone is gonna realise that an’ claim him as theirs. Realise how beautiful he is. Inside and out.  
And I’ll have lost him.  
Lost my sanctuary.  
Lost my safe place.

What’ll you do then eh? Smart guy.  
When Jeannie an’ Slim have had enough of your violence. Your petulance. Your selfishness.  
Enough of you.  
Who’ll take you in then?  
‘Cos I can see the pattern developing right here, right now. He’ll put me up, feed me, clothe me. Until Slim calms down. Until Jeannie’s okay. And then I’ll go back to the Luna Habitat.

Until the next time. Until I fuck up again.

I’ll leave him, without a word. Without a word of thanks. And, damn it, he’ll let me. Damn it.  
God. So beautiful.

“Are you hungry?” He turns towards me.  
I shake my head, walk forward. His scent changes, he’s still wary of me. Smart lad.  
So I stop, six foot away.  
“I’m sorry.”  
He turns, pulls down a couple of mugs. “It’s fine, Logan. I know what happened to the team. I know...” He pauses. “I know how hard it is for you.”  
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
“It’s only a bruise.” His hand comes up to his chin, unconsciously. Crap, did I hit him? I don’t remember hitting him. “Here.” He passes me the coffee.  
“Elf?”  
He sighs, smiles. “It’s okay, Logan.” It’s not okay.  
He saved my life last night.  
Possibly stopped me from going out and hurting others. They’d have had to have taken me down, like a rabid animal.

I came here.  
Because here is safe.  
Because he is here.

And I hurt him.  
I keep hurting him.  
There are words for those who abuse teammates, people they work with.  
There are other, darker words for those who hurt their family.  
People they love.

Not special.  
Nothing to me.  
I’m a lousy liar.

****

Oh, hell, Logan. No, please don’t do this to me.  
Please.  
I’m not special. Not special to you.  
I don’t need to be, I’m just your friend.  
Just your drinking buddy.  
Just leave me that.

Please.

I don’t want to lose that.

Think about Jean.  
Think about those bridges you’re building with Scott.  
Think about them.  
You’re in a relationship.

Please.  
Don’t.

He follows me, like a deadly puppy.

“I want, I need to...”  
I want and need too, you stupid man.

The broken teacup is on the counter. Oh. I liked that cup.

His huge, deadly, hand reaches up, cups my cheek.  
Wipes away a tear.  
Where did that come from?  
His hand is warm, from the coffee mug.

The tears are hot.  
Scalding.

I want.  
I need.

I was scared, scared of you. But more, scared for you.  
Not special.

I pull away from him, wipe my hand over my eyes. Don’t be so bloody stupid, Kurt.  
I’m shaking, why am I shaking? I have to stay calm, stay in control. Stop it, you stupid man.

His arms come around me.

****

Ah, little lad, I’m so sorry.  
Everyone goes to him for a shoulder to lean on. To cry on. Not just me.  
An’ he never asks anyone for anything. Nothing. Never asks any of us,  
Jean says it’s because he’s emotionally independent. but I think it’s darker than that. I think he doesn’t ask because I think he’s scared, scared the answer will be ‘no’.

So who does he get to turn to?  
‘Ro? Pete? I think. I hope. But I don’t know.

He’s ashamed of his tears, he’s no need to be ashamed, he’s the strongest man I know.

“I-I’m sorry.”  
“You’ve no need to be sorry, darlin’. I’m the one who’s apologisin’. You saved my life, Elf, last night, you saved me.”  
“You’re welcome here, Logan.” He wipes the back of his hand across his face, even with red rimmed eyes and a snotty nose, he’s beautiful. “You’re always welcome here.”  
“I know, darlin’ and I don’t deserve a friend like you.”  
I reach out and kiss his forehead.  
It’s paternal. Fraternal. A kiss between friends. 

He looks at me. Golden eyes, the colour of the sunrise.  
The world shifts.

The second kiss is on the lips. His mouth opens to me, soft and sweet as honey.  
His arms come around my neck, strong arms, familiar, safe, no threat.  
Trust, I trust him. He trusts me. Even after everything I’ve done. He trusts me.  
His tongue caresses mine, he’s good at this, of course he is. Fuck. I’m getting hard, the yukata doesn’t hide how he’s affecting me.  
He breaks away with a slight gasp. He’s shaking again. But it’s not fear now; I can smell the desire on him.

We’re known each other for years.  
We’ve known this for years.  
We just chose to ignore it.

Good Catholic men do not have relationships with mass murderers.

Now is not the time.  
I physically hurt him last night.  
Not to mention my words.

And then there’s Slim and Jeannie.

He pulls away from me. His eyes on my face.  
Now we both know I’m a liar.  
He means something to me.  
This means something to me. To us.  
He’s my friend, my best friend, but that was more than just a kiss between friends.

This might not be the time. The place.  
But he means something. We mean something.

We. 

Oh, fuck.

We.

**Author's Note:**

> Fancied some angst. This little series is, I think, out of the continuity of my other stories; Kurt and Logan aren’t in any kind of existing relationship other than their long standing friendship.  
> Current X-Men canon as per Dawn of X 2020 - The X-Men have set up home on a tropical living island, Krakoa. Logan, Jean and Scott are living on The Moon in a fancy habitat with connecting doors...
> 
> I didn’t tick ‘major character death’ as, while Logan has just killed Jean, the X-Men currently have a revolving door policy on the afterlife, due to The Resurrection Protocols. It takes two days to revive the dead.  
> A lot can happen in two days.
> 
> Story is on hiatus until Wolverine 3 comes out and I see where Percy is going with the plot.


End file.
